# # # Chapter 12 # # #

The sky was red, and the trees were watching Takashi.

He could feel it.

But worse than the trees were the things hiding in them. Shining bright oranges and yellows and reds, the color haloing around them in a way that made his eyes burn if he looked at them too long –

(Whatever else he does, he must not look at them too long, or they'll notice him too)

– they shifted from one shape to the next with dizzying speed, too blurred for him to get a clear look.

(Especially since he mustn't look, not for long, not too close, or they would get him)

"Natsume?" The little fox looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting, their joined hands a spot of warmth in a forest that felt far too cold.

– Or was it pleasantly cool in heat like the height of summer? –

"Natsume, is there something wrong?" The words rose from the little fox's lips in little blue clouds, and Takashi wondered what it would be like to touch one.

He squeezed the little fox's hand and smiled a reassurance he didn't feel. "Don't worry, I'll protect you. Just … keep walking and don't attract their attention, all right?"

His voice wisped outwards, silver like his hair fading to pale grey like the fog that had led him to Seigen.

Were they from Seigen? Had Kamuriki-sama decided that just kicking him out wasn't enough?

But then why would they just be sitting there?

Or were they those things, the ones that had eaten most of the other humans? Watching, waiting for the right time to strike?

"Don't attract whose attention?" The little fox asked, looking around.

"Whose?" Echoed a much deeper voice, misting a narrow band of purple at his eye-height that faded as quickly as it had appeared. Too quickly for Takashi's frantic looking around to pinpoint its source.

"Natsume?"

"Did you hear that?" Pale green coalesced into spikes and faded.

"Hear what?" The little fox asked.

"I don't know. Maybe one of them." Takashi glanced upwards; flinched away from the bright haloing light. The trees' attention sharpened. "Just … keep ignoring them, and maybe they'll keep ignoring us."

The sky was green. He thought it had been red.

(He thought it had been another color before that. But he couldn't quite remember –)

The little fox looked upwards, looked right at one of them, and Takashi wanted to cover his eyes before it noticed but he couldn't make himself move. He looked back at Takashi. "I don't see anyone there." Blue faded to blue-grey; Takashi reached out to touch one of the little clouds, but it dissipated before he could.

The meaning of the little fox's words sunk in and he froze from an entirely different sort of fear. "You don't see anything?" He forced the words out, and they fell as the ash they tasted like on his tongue.

The little fox shook his head, ears drooping. Heart in his throat, Takashi turned and looked directly at the closest one, a spiral of yellow-orange-red that coalesced into a humanoid form (but there were too many arms, and where was its head?) as he watched.

"But I'm sure if Natsume sees them, they exist," he heard as though through a long tunnel, as it gathered itself for a leap; as others of them flowed into it and it grew.

A keening cry ripped through the forest, black icicles hanging from midair, and Takashi turned and crouched, wrapping himself around the little fox.

"Natsume?"

The world fractured into color and light.

#

"Natsume-dono."

He couldn't open his eyes. He couldn't tell whether he was hearing real words or just the roaring in his ears, whether he was standing or lying down or spinning in the endless spiral his head felt like.

"Natsume-dono."

He didn't recognize the voice. Didn't know how to respond. Wasn't sure he could.

His hand felt cold.

"What … him …?"

"Take … god …"

He strained to hear, but static wrapped him, wiping all sense from the rest of the conversation. A high-pitched voice piped insistently, and he knew that was important, if he could just remember –

Hands touched him from all around. Some tiny, some large, one about the size of his head. He felt himself rise. Tried to struggle, to protest, to ask what was happening and who was there and where they were taking him and why.

But the swaying dragged him away, spiraled him under, before he had the chance.

#

"— Record."

Touko paused. "Dandruff."

"Frantic."

"Coffee."

Shigeru stopped, looking wistful. "Coffee …"

Touko hid a smile behind her hand. "I win again."

"Only because you play dirty."

"Because you never think to first?" She shifted from facing Shigeru to sitting beside to him, close enough to lean against his arm. He obligingly wrapped it around her, drawing her in deeper, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, following his gaze to the still stubbornly shut door.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine they were back home, sitting on the back porch. Watching the flowers grow, Shigeru had always joked. Instead of here, in this room, completely cut off from everything and everything they knew, without even the decency of having been told why.

She grasped for that fleeting calm; she'd never thought herself the most active of people, but after less than a day awake, only the word games they played as a distraction were keeping her from seriously contemplating doing something drastic. She didn't know how Shigeru had managed alone during the nearly two days she'd lain asleep.

And even worse than the boredom, was still not knowing anything.

"Takashi-kun's all right, isn't he?" She asked, voice too loud in the otherwise silent room, and far more uncertain than she liked to admit.

Shigeru's arm tightened around her. "He's gotten out of plenty of scrapes before," he said lightly. "… And that's just the ones we know about."

I'm sure there are plenty of others we don't. "… Do you think we made the right decision? Not pushing him?"

"If we had, he would probably have fled, at least at first," Shigeru said, and Touko remembered just how – fragile wasn't quite the right word. How insubstantial he'd seemed at times. She'd occasionally wondered if she would turn around one day and find that he'd disappeared. Now she hoped, desperately, that those fears hadn't finally come to pass. "Now … I don't know." He leaned into her briefly, a subtle nudge. "When we see him again, shall we ask?"

She huffed, quietly amused. "Yes, let's." She eyed the door. "There must be some way to open it. Our meals get in here somehow."

In her peripheral vision, Shigeru grimaced. "I can't believe I fell asleep."

Those first two nights, he'd said, it hadn't occurred to him to question where the food had come from; he'd been too worried about her, and too overwhelmed by his own not exactly uneventful day. But the previous day had been calm and quiet, and after discussing the situation, they'd decided one of them should see if they could catch whoever – or whatever – was bringing their food.

Shigeru had taken a nap in the early evening, Touko keeping a fond watch. She'd woken to the smell of dinner, irritated that she'd allowed herself to drop off as well. Surely she had slept enough, these last several days.

Sleep had been a long time coming that night, but she'd eventually dropped off, Shigeru still wide awake. She'd woken around 8 am – if their watches were still to be believed – to find Shigeru sprawled half across her, fast asleep, and steam still rising from the miso soup that accompanied their breakfast.

Touko frowned. Perhaps if there had been only the one incident, she wouldn't have been quite so suspicious. But twice? And when she may have been somewhat drained the previous evening, but not particularly sleepy? "Last night, when you fell asleep, do you remember feeling tired?"

Her husband shrugged, the motion shifting her slightly as well. "I'd been up all night, so … somewhat, of course. I've had far worse – ah." He paused. "You think they used some sort of … sleeping spell? … on me too?"

Touko huffed another quiet laugh. 'Spell' was not, perhaps, the word she would have chosen. Though given their current predicament, it seemed as reasonable an explanation as anything else. "If our captors do have such things, it certainly seems the easiest way of keeping us under control."

Of course, that would also imply that either they really were invisible, or that they were currently under active surveillance, neither option of which Touko liked. She patted Shigeru's knee. "I appreciate your worry about my condition when we arrived, but let's both stay up tonight. Perhaps it can only affect one person at a time, or we can help each other shake off its effects."

Shigeru covered her hand with his own. "All right. We'll figure out a way out of this somehow." Something steely entered his expression. "If this goes too much longer, perhaps I can just break the door down."

"If there's some sort of magical seal on the door, I suspect it's also protected against violence," Touko pointed out. "… But if it comes to that, I'll help." She nudged him, feigning lightheartedness. "Now how about another game of Shiritori while we wait?"

He looked down at her, mischief in his eyes. "I will win this round."

"You are welcome to try, dear."

#

A dull thud.

Touko jumped, her full attention on the door as from beyond it, something thudded again.

Shigeru stood, his expression wary. "What –?"

She joined him during a brief period of silence that somehow seemed more ominous than the thuds, and jumped again as the door slammed open.

"Oi, brat, what the hell are you doing still here? Even a weakling like you should have been able to break through that seal easi –"

Touko stared downwards, dimly aware of Shigeru doing the same.

The cat they had taken into their home about a year earlier – the cat that had just talked, with the voice of a middle-aged man – stared back.

"… I'm not imagining things, am I?"

"No, dear, I heard it too."

"… … … Meow?"

Touko laughed quietly as she knelt down to scratch behind his ears. Did talking cats like that? He'd never objected before …

"I'm afraid you'll have to try a bit harder than that to convince us, Nyankichi – oh, come to think of it, what is your name?" She could never remember what it was that Takashi-kun called him, and he always seemed to come when she called regardless.

"Eh, whatever's fine," the cat said, leaning into her hand. "Can't be more embarrassing than the brat's choice."

Touko bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.

The cat suddenly ducked out from under her hand. "Anyway! I don't suppose you two would agree to forget this ever happened? The brat'll be pissed when he finds out."

"I'm afraid not," Shigeru said, settling crosslegged beside her. "And just what is going on? Where did Takashi-kun come across a talking cat?"

"I am not a cat," he said, with the air of an old grievance. "If it would do any good, I would show you my proper, noble form, but of course most of you silly, normal humans can't see what's right in front of you."

"But Takashi-kun can?" Shigeru asked, only moments before Touko would have said the same. So that white raven he saw really was –

She watched with fascination as the cat (not-a-cat?) visibly winced. "Are you sure we can't pretend we never had this conversation?" he asked plaintively. "He'll put me on a diet for months."

She and Shigeru exchanged an amused look. "And I'll make sure you can't sneak anything from the kitchen, either, if you keep avoiding the question," she said, hoping she'd feigned severity well enough to hide her amusement.

The cat gave her an impressively appalled look, then sighed. "Fine." He threw a look towards the still-open door. "But make it fast, or better yet, ask on the way. Matoba's shiki are almost all idiots, but even they're going to notice that I disappeared eventually."

"Shiki?" Shigeru asked.

"Matoba?" Touko asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Shiki are … eh, call them servants. Matoba is the long-haired eyepatch-wearing bastard who owns this place," the cat said, clearly impatient.

Ah. Yes, that was it. "Matoba … -san … came to talk to me, before he brought us here," Touko said slowly. As much as the forced lack of activity grated on her, now that escaping seemed an actual possibility, she had to wonder … "He was saying something about invisible monsters. He wasn't talking about … the things Takashi-kun can see, was he?"

Nyankichi huffed. "Hell if I know." He paused to wipe a paw across an ear, then continued, voice reluctant, "Probably not. If he had come to talk to you about youkai, he'd probably have started the conversation by revealing to you that the brat could see them."

"Then there's something else out there? Something … worse?" She wished she knew a better word – surely not everything strangethat Takashi-kun saw was bad – but couldn't come up with one.

"Do I look like I have all the answers?" the cat demanded. Really, it was amazing Takashi-kun had stayed as polite as he had, if he'd spent much time at all talking with his very rude cat. "Something smelled off before that bastard Matoba's shiki sneak attacked me, the fools. But it's not like I ever saw anything."

He tilted his head suddenly, and she wondered what he was hearing that they couldn't. "There's my cue. Seriously, how incompetent are those shiki?" He turned back to them. "Well? You two coming?"

Shigeru half-stood, but Touko laid a hand on his arm. "We'd just be in your way, wouldn't we?" She asked. "And with some unknown thing roaming about …"

Her husband studied her face for a moment, sighed, and turned back to the cat as he settled back down. "Are we any safer here than we would be out there?"

The cat looked at him as though he'd asked the stupidest question in the world. "Matoba wards are some of the best in the business, the bastard has no qualms about harming youkai but he generally treats humans with more respect, and in any case, unless I miss my guess you're meant to be pawns in whatever he's planning for the brat. If you're not safe here, you wouldn't be safe anywhere."

Shigeru looked like he had something sour in his mouth. Well, Touko couldn't say she liked the idea of being used as a pawn (a hostage?) any more than he did. Still. "In that case …" She faltered.

Shigeru's hand closed over hers, comfortingly. "In that case, tell Takashi-kun that we are safe, and that he should stay safe, too, until we see each other again." He paused. "And that if we really are being used as hostages, he shouldn't agree to anything just because of us."

"And tell him that we love him," Touko said, the words falling off her lips far more easily than she felt they had any right to. For a moment, she wanted to take them back – what if they were too much, what if they scared him away, what if they were a burden?

But Shigeru's hand tightened around her own, and when she looked up she found him smiling down at her, and then there wasn't any time left.

"Ugh, stupid sentimental humans give me indigestion," the cat muttered. "Fine. Whatever. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid."

He barreled towards the door, slamming it shut behind him. The patter of his feet had barely faded before Shigeru stood and walked to the door.

He looked as surprised as her when it slid open with no more resistance than a normal door. Clearly, whatever Nyankichi had done had removed the lock. (Seal?)

Curious, she joined Shigeru in looking out into a corridor that matched their room: traditional, possessing a palpable sense of age but also clearly well-kept, impressively wide, and bare of any decoration.

It also appeared to be empty, though when she stuck her head out to look farther down the corridor, a sudden gust of wind blew loose strands of hair across her face. She leaned back into the room that now felt more like "safe" than "prison", and tucked the disarrayed hair back behind her ears. "… Just because it looks empty, I guess it's not fair to assume that it actually is."

"Even less so here than other places, I suspect," Shigeru said dryly, cast one more thoughtful look at the corridor, and stepped back from the door, closing it behind him. He stood there for a few moments, hand still on the door, before sighing. "The world really is bigger than we've ever known."

"Or perhaps simply larger than we were willing to admit," she said quietly, thinking of white ravens and unexplained grass stains and scrapes and occasional fainting spells and bouts of sudden, unexplainable sickness that disappeared just as quickly as they appeared – except when they didn't. "… We're terrible guardians, aren't we?"

In a handful of rapid steps he was there, wrapping his arms around her. "We've done the best we knew how. And now we know better. We'll be better." His grip tightened. "And even not knowing, I'd say Takashi-kun was still far better off with us than some of those – those –"

She didn't know whether it was some sense of obscure family loyalty or simply an inability to find the right words that stilled his tongue; either way she nodded firmly. Some part of her wanted to beg for more reassurance – that everything would be okay, that Takashi-kun would be okay, that they'd see each other again – but it wasn't really fair to Shigeru, to lean on him so much. Instead she straightened, looking up at him. "What now, do you think?"

Her husband made a face, drawing a smile onto hers. "Unfortunately, I don't think there's anything we really can do now but wait."

#

"Ishida-san," Shigeru said triumphantly. "I bet you don't remember him."

Touko closed her eyes. Tired of losing to her at Shiritori, Shigeru had proposed a memory game: naming fellow students of theirs from middle and high school, and seeing if the other remembered. She'd only forgotten two to Shigeru's three, but feared she wouldn't be able to hang onto her lead much longer. "Was he, um …" memory sparked, and she grinned, reopening her eyes. "That boy with the terribly unfashionable round glasses who transferred out our third year of middle school. No fair choosing a transfer student!"

Shigeru smiled, eyes dancing mischievously. "I have to take my advantages where I can, dear."

The door slid open.

"— take to get competent help around here …" A smooth young masculine voice preceded its owner into the room. At his distinctive appearance, Touko stiffened, wondering if she'd feel the sleep spell (or whatever) coming; Shigeru half-stood before apparently thinking better of it, and the young man stared at them, his visible eye open in something that looked very much like surprise. "Ah."

As quickly as it had appeared, the surprise disappeared, replaced by a bland smile much like the one Touko remembered him greeting her with the first time they met. "If you will excuse me …"

He turned to leave, and Touko and Shigeru exchanged a glance. "If you're looking for Nyangoro, Matoba-san," her husband said politely, "I'm afraid he's long gone."

They found themselves once again the subject of the black-haired young man's attention; a rather closer examination than the first time. When he spoke again, his voice sounded slightly strangled. "Nyangoro … was it?"

"You must admit the name fits," Shigeru said, slightly defensive. "Though ... what would be an appropriate name for a talking cat?"

"Luna?" Touko suggested, doing her best to keep a straight face. She'd never watched the show herself, but at the height of its popularity Sailor Moon had been so popular even in their area that she could hardly have avoided learning at least a little bit about it.

Shigeru shot her an appalled look, amusement well hidden. "Wasn't Luna female? I doubt he'd forgive us for that!"

She waved a hand. "The male cat, then. Artemis, wasn't it?"

Matoba cleared his throat. "I wouldn't put it past him to know enough of Greek mythology to take exception at being named after a goddess," he said dryly. "He ... talked to you, then?"

So the sense of humor was not entirely a front. The man who stood near the entrance to the room seemed subtly different from the one who had tried to convince her to leave home (and kidnapped her when she refused). His clothes were the most obvious change – traditional, in dark colors, of similar make to what had been left in the closet for Shigeru's use, where when he had visited her, he'd worn a suit. He'd seemed more at home in the suit; here it was as though some additional weight sat uncomfortably on his shoulders.

She also noticed that he had yet to cross more than a step past the threshold, and although this young man couldn't be more different from their ward, that reminded her of how hesitant Takashi-kun had been, those initial long weeks, when she and Shigeru had begun to wonder if they'd done the right thing, or simply inadvertently caused more damage with their blundering.

"Won't you come in and have a seat?" she asked, as gracefully as if it were her own home and not (presumably) his.

Shigeru shot her a look that she returned with a brief smile before she turned back to Matoba, his expression again blank. "I believe I will pass," he said politely. "I must continue the search for ... Artemis." A short pause. "If he stopped to talk, I am ... curious why you did not accompany him."

"Given your conversation with my wife before you kidnapped her, we thought it best not to," Shigeru said, showing admirable restraint in tone if not words.

"He said you could be trusted to keep us safe," Touko added.

Matoba's face went even blanker. "I somehow doubt that." He inclined his head towards them, turned, and left, sliding the door closed behind him.

Touko took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "That was … interesting."

"Why did you invite him in?" Shigeru asked, turning towards her. "He's the one holding us here."

"According to Nyankichi, he's also the one keeping us safe," Touko said. "Now that we have decided to stay here, there's not a whole lot of point to holding a grudge. Besides, if he doesn't think we'll cause trouble, maybe he'll open up more of this place to us."

"Speaking of –" Shigeru walked over and tried the door. It slid open easily. "Well, either we are allowed out now, or he didn't think it worth the time to spend re-… sealing? the door."

"I do hope he got away safely," Touko said.

"Nyangoro? You've seen how much trouble he can be when he doesn't want to do something." Shigeru settled back down next to her, bumping her shoulder lightly. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

She smiled back. "I wonder what Matoba-san wants with Takashi-kun. Perhaps I'll ask, if he comes by again." Seeing Shigeru's expression threaten to turn dark, she nudged him back. "Be nice, dear."

He shook his head. "If you insist."

"He reminds me – just a little – of how Takashi-kun was, right after we took him in," she said, looking back towards the door.

"He kidnapped you, dear, he's not one of your strays."

She made a face at him. "I know that."

He sighed. "Well, we'll try it your way for now. More flies with honey, I suppose."

Touko just smiled. They always end up being your strays, too, dear.

#

Takashi's eyes snapped open.

Darkness.

He stomped on his first instinct towards panic. His most recent memories were a jumble of fragmented images, most of which didn't make any sense, but the familiar feel of his fanny pack against his waist, the less familiar feel of the mask pressed against the side of his head, and a warm weight curled up at his side that felt like the little fox reassured him that he was among friends.

He shifted the still-tender knot on the back of his head against the rock he lay on, and winced. Not that that's necessarily any better, some days.

A thin, rough cloth covered most of his body; it slid reluctantly downwards as he sat up slowly, automatically shifting the little fox, who grumbled a sleepy protest and resettled into his new position. His head spun, and he felt hollowed-out, as weak as if he'd just recovered from a particularly bad bout of overstrain-induced illness.

The darkness shaded slightly lighter off to his right. Not bright enough to see any details, but he thought he could see a couple of stalagmites rising from the surrounding rock not too far away, and far above his head, he thought the ceiling looked rough and jagged.

He thought he could hear a small stream trickling nearby, and several other places dripping in syncopated fashion. Something that might have been the soft pattering of tiny feet caught his attention before fading away, but he couldn't see any youkai who might be the cause.

His heart clenched, remembering the times before when his sight had been temporarily damaged. What if youkai were all around him, and he just couldn't see any of them anymore?

What if it was permanent?

Panic tried, again, to sink its claws into him, but he shook it off as well as he could. With the room this dim, probably the only way he would be able to see any youkai is if they glowed. Or perhaps it was just rats. (Though in that case, he would definitely prefer the youkai.)

He slowly stood, reaching a hand out to steady himself against the nearby wall as he nearly lost his balance. He almost fell over again as he leaned down to feel around for and then pull the blanket over the little fox, injured shoulder protesting each motion. Part of him wanted to just lie back down, curl up, and sleep some more, but first he needed to know where he was.

And who had him.

And why.

He gingerly prodded at his memories again, hoping they'd make more sense this time.

They'd stopped for lunch, Takashi helping gather what they could find as the little fox directed him in a surprisingly imperious voice, so glad to be of use that it made his heart ache.

Maybe it was the food? He certainly didn't know forest life well enough to be able to tell at a glance what was edible to humans and what was not. He'd assumed the little fox would know; it had been their third such meal together, and no trouble had befallen him the other times.

Everything after that was still jumbled, incomprehensible fragments, so perhaps his luck had run out.

He shook his head gingerly, pleased when the motion caused no additional ill effects. Well, I seem to have survived. I'll call that lucky enough for me for now.

Stepping carefully, he walked towards the lighter part of the cave, one hand always lightly touching the wall. Several bends in the path later, he had to stop and cover his eyes as the light from the exit – still a ways off, but now a straight shot – stabbed at his eyes.

He paused again at the mouth of the cave, taking in his surroundings as his eyes finished adjusting.

A good-sized clearing fanned away from him, framed by trees on all sides. It appeared to form a small plateau, the steep drop-off on all sides hiding the lower trunks of any of the trees, but the trees themselves were still tall enough that he couldn't see over them.

The rushing noise he'd been hearing for several minutes turned out to be a stream that ran down the cliff face not far from the cave, bisected the clearing, and disappeared over the edge. It looked about ankle-deep, maybe half a meter wide at its broadest point, and so achingly clear that his throat pointedly reminded him that it had no idea how long it had been since he'd had something to drink.

Part of him wanted to stop and drink in the beauty, as he so rarely had the chance to. (He had trouble appreciating beauty while being chased by something with far too many teeth.) Unfortunately, he still had no idea where he was.

I hope I haven't been kidnapped again. I hadn't even finished rescuing myself the first time yet. Sensei would never let me live it down.

"Natsume-dono, you're awake!"

His head whipped around, trying to pinpoint the voice, and he finally found it in the form of what initially appeared to be a small fish hovering in the middle of the stream. It climbed out of the water and what first appeared to be translucent tendrils waving behind it turned out to be an incredibly loose and noodly body attached to its fish-shaped head.

He had no idea how it stood upright, though he supposed it still wasn't the strangest youkai he had seen. And it was such a relief to have confirmation that he could still see them.

"Natsume-dono, please stay right here." It waved its noodly arms in a way that left Takashi hard-pressed not to laugh. "I will go inform my lord. He will be so pleased!"

It jumped back into the water and swam upstream, briefly appearing to be nothing more than another small fish, before it used its … tentacles? … to help it climb up the miniature waterfall at the stream's head.

Takashi blinked as he watched it go, then shrugged and sat down, leaning back against the rock wall and closing his eyes.

If he hadn't had the little fox with him, he might have considered running. Though given how shaky he still was, he doubted he'd have gotten far. As it was, he simply had to hope that the servant youkai's demeanor meant that its lord would be similarly benevolent.

The waterfall had almost lulled him back to sleep when a familiar voice spoke. "Natsume."

His eyes shot open. "Kai!" His friend stood there, whole and healthy and so painfully unsure that even Takashi could see it. And with absolutely no reason, when it had been him who had – "I'm so sorry, I never meant for you to believe that I was in league – I mean, I wasn't in league with Natori-san, he's my friend, yes, but so are you, and I wouldn't have knowingly done anything that put you in danger. Please believe me!"

For a long moment, Kai simply stared, his face distressingly blank.

Takashi only caught a glimpse of Kai's face crumpling before he found his arms full of distressed young god. He patted Kai's back tentatively. "It's all right?"

"I almost stole the Book of Friendsfrom you," Kai wailed. "I thought it served you right! But then I couldn't, because you're still my friend! But I thought you hated me!"

"I could never hate you," Takashi said, pouring all his sincerity into the words, hoping Kai would believe him. "It was a misunderstanding, and that was my fault, too."

He breathed out. "I know what it's like, to be lonely and misunderstood. And I'm sure there have been times that I've misinterpreted things, too, because I couldn't quite bring myself to believe in the people who tried to explain themselves to me."

Kai looked up at him in wonder. "But you have so many friends! You have Taki."

"I do now," Takashi said, forcing himself to breathe through the echo of the steamed bun seller's voice in his head, mockingly reminding him that he probably didn't, anymore. "I didn't always."

"But you're so nice!"

Takashi smiled wryly down at Kai. "I wasn't always. And sometimes … things just don't work out." He looked out towards the gap in the trees. "Like we almost didn't. I always meant to come try to find you, but … it never really worked out. There was always something else."

"… I wanted to visit," Kai said in a small voice. "But I was afraid."

"I think I may have been, too."

"I don't think so. Natsume would never be afraid," Kai said, again full of that childlike faith that tended to make Takashi forget just how much older than himself Kai must be. It was so easy to treat him like the child he appeared to be. "What changed your mind?"

Takashi blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you decide to come?" Kai asked. "The kitsune with you ran into some of my followers – did I mention I have followers now? – near the foot of my mountain and led them back to where you had collapsed. They brought you here, and we've done our best to nurse you back to health. I was worried that something terrible had happened. I've been getting a feeling like that lately, like something terrible has happened, but …"

"From what I've … heard," Takashi said, and had to force himself to breathe, again, "something caused most humans to disappear. And there's something else that eats both humans and youkai." He made a helpless gesture. "I don't – some youkai stole me away before whatever it was that happened, so I don't know anything, really." He turned his face away, not wanting Kai to see just how upset he was. "I've just been trying to get back –"

"I'll help," Kai said.

Takashi stopped, looked at him. Kai gulped. "You're my friend, Natsume." He stood back up. "If something that terrible is out there, I think I should probably know more about it. Even if it's really scary. Maybe especially if it's really scary. How can I protect my home and my followers and Natsume from something I don't know anything about?"

Takashi swallowed, overcome. But. "I can't let you do that, Kai," he said. No matter how much he wanted to. "There's your followers, and –"

"They can take care of themselves for a while," Kai said. "Please let me do this for you, Natsume."

He closed his eyes, forced himself to reopen them. "Kai, I – from what I heard, only people with power survived. I can't ask you to come with me, not when I'm trying to find Natori-san."

Kai stiffened, and at their side the stream rippled counter to its normal flow. "That exorcist –!"

"He's my friend, too." Takashi met Kai's eyes. Just as he had been unable to choose just humans then, he couldn't choose just youkai now. No matter how much easier it would be. "I have to know."

Kai turned away, the stream at their side slowly returning to normal, and when he turned back the last of the angry god bled from his eyes. "I suppose that was a misunderstanding, too?"

Takashi flinched from the bitterness in Kai's voice and forced himself to answer honestly. "Natori-san … I don't think he likes youkai very much. Especially not when he thinks humans might be at stake. But after I explained things to him, he was going to just seal the well and leave. I think he regretted trying to exorcise you. He's –" Takashi faltered. Who was he to say that Natori-san was a good person, when he wasn't even sure what that meant? "— he's my friend."

Kai stared at him for another long moment, and finally nodded. "Okay. I'll give him another chance."

"What?"

"If you're friends with him, maybe he's not like the other exorcists." Kai nodded again, then faltered. "And … I don't want you to disappear again. Especially not if you might disappear forever. So …" He gulped. "Let me stay with you a little bit longer?"

"I …" Takashi wanted to protest further, but the truth was that now that he'd found Kai again, he didn't want his friend to disappear, either. "If you're sure?"

"I am," Kai said. "Where did you want to go? One of my followers, Takabane, can fly really fast. He can take us there."

"Um." Takashi had to bite back the sudden urge to laugh. He had been to Natori-san's apartment in Sakaki, but he had no idea where his real home was. "I don't actually know."

The urge to laugh drained away. When Natori-san had given him his address, he'd also given him his phone number – both the apartment landline and his cell. He knew he still had that paper tucked away somewhere.

At home.

He could imagine all too easily; had had nightmares about what that house would be like empty of life. He did not want to go back there. Not now. Not yet.

But.

"Home," he said quietly. "I need to – if you're sure, please take me home."